


The Inquisition's Fabulous Fashion Show

by SerenPedac



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenPedac/pseuds/SerenPedac
Summary: Work and the ongoing threat of Corypheus has the entire Inquisition on edge. Rhiann Trevelyan decides it's time to lift everyone's spirits and a fashion show seems like a great way to do that. Now she only needs to find some (more or less) willing participants.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor & Sera, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	The Inquisition's Fabulous Fashion Show

Surrounded by pieces of clothing in various tints of blue, green and grey, Rhiann sat cross-legged in her room, untangling the red ropes in her lap. It was a good idea, it really was, but why did the tailor have to put everything together in one package? He must’ve foreseen the confusion that would cause. She bit her lip, fiddling with a particularly tight knot that she would swear hadn’t been there before. It was like two new ones appeared each time she undid one.

“Rhi! What you’re up to?” Sera barged in, leaving the door wide open. She looked from Rhiann to the clothes and back. “Got yourself tangled up in a ropey situation?”

Rhiann snorted. “Hah, very funny. I had this idea.” Maker, had she just tightened the knot even further? She held up the ropes in defeat. “Would you mind giving me a hand?”

“If you tell me your idea.” Sera dropped down next to her and took the ropes Rhiann had been working on. Her fingers moved swiftly and before Rhiann could blink, the knot came undone.

“Yeah, so, I was thinking how things have been so serious lately and everyone is in their own quarters, doing their own thing. We need some teambuilding.” Rhiann watched as Sera moved on to the next set. “And since we have those beautiful schematics, why not have an antaam-saar tailored for everyone and do a fashion show?”

Sera gave her a stunned look before bursting into laughter. “A fashion show? You gonna make the others wear this?”

“I most definitely am going to try. You’re included as well.” She cast her first target a bright smile. The others would follow, no doubt about that. Sure, some would need some more convincing than others, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle.

“Right, but I gotta see you convince Cassandra first.”

“Deal.”

First on the list was Dorian.

“What a great idea, how did I not think of it myself? You do understand the others won’t stand a chance?”

Next came Iron Bull.

“Wear an antaam-saar? Sure thing, boss.”

Then Vivienne.

“Darling, do you truly wish me to spend my time on your little show?”

“There will be a competition and I’m sure no one could wear it as well as you. It would be a shame not to have you there.”

Vivienne sighed. “Very well, then. Please make sure the colours don’t clash as they did in your last outfit.”

Varric should be easy to convince.

“You want to do what? And here I thought Hawke was the one with the crazy ideas. But sure, sign me up.”

Rhiann hesitated before entering the barn where Blackwall—no, Thom Rainier—was busy with his woodworking.

“Wear a what?”

“You know, those qunari armours with the ropes? It’ll be good for morale, I think.”

“Like a ‘nothing creates a bond like shared embarrassment’ sort of thing? We used to that back in the— Nevermind, I’m in, Inquisitor.”

With Sera trailing her, Rhiann went to Cassandra.

“A fashion show? Why?”

“To lighten up the mood, have some fun.”

“I do not see why I would have to participate.”

“Told ya it wouldn’t work,” Sera whispered. Well, whispered in the Sera kind of way: loud enough for everyone who hadn’t been paying attention before to turn around and listen.

Rhiann ignored her and continued with a straight face, “Varric already said you wouldn’t have the guts to do it. He did agree to wear it.”

“Varric said that? Tell him I am not that easily defeated. I accept the challenge.”

Last was Solas.

“What a curious idea.”

“So you’ll be a part of it?”

“Did you hear me say that?”

Of course, things couldn’t be easy for once, not with Solas. Rhiann shifted her weight, trying to think of another angle to approach this problem. “No, but you also didn’t say you wouldn’t.”

“That is true. If I may ask, why are you doing this?”

“Because,” she started, but didn’t continue. Would Solas be the one person she wouldn’t be able to convince? But no, she wouldn’t give up just yet. She planted her feet firmly on the ground and told him all that had been going through her mind. “Because I hope it will make everyone smile. With Corypheus breathing down our necks, planning his next attack, we’re all on edge and people seem to forget we’re in this together. And to be honest, I don’t know when we’ll have a chance to have a good time together like this again.”

Solas studied her for a moment. “I see. I will take part in this fashion show if it pleases you.”

“You will?” Rhiann blinked several times to check if it was really Solas standing before her. “Thanks!”

Now she just had to convince the advisors to act as judges.

“Dear Josephine, I need someone with your skill for impartial judgement for this. Will you please help me?”

Josephine laughed. “There’s no need to flatter me. I will gladly help.”

“Leliana, your Orlesian fashion sense would be invaluable.”

“Yes, I can see that. There are not many here who care about such things, hmm? I will make a list of points we could use to judge.”

“Cullen, would you help? The number of judges has to be uneven.”

“You want _me_ to judge a fashion show? I don’t see how I could be needed for that.”

“Please? If you’ll do it, I’ll wear my own antaam-saar later.” Rhiann winked. “In private.”

Instead of blushing, he managed to keep his face unfazed and bent over to whisper in her ear, “Are you sure that’s a wise idea, Inquisitor? You wouldn’t want to get all tangled up in those ropes.” He smiled that crooked smile that made her heart stutter. “Would you?”

“I, eh.” Rhiann felt her cheeks glow. “I’ll just take that as a yes.”

“So will I.”

With the participants and judges settled, there was one more person she needed to speak to.

“Cole,” Rhiann said, standing in the upper floor of the Herald’s Rest. His name had barely left her lips when he appeared from behind her, a floorboard creaking slightly.

“Friends to wear it, friends to judge. You haven’t asked me. Why haven’t you asked me? You need my help to…” He hesitated so she jumped in before he could begin worrying about no longer being able to help.

“We’ll need music and an audience, but only of—”

“People you trust. Like the Chargers. Scout Lace Harding, Dagna the Arcanist.” He paused before guessing, “Maryden the Minstrel?”

“That sounds perfect.” Rhiann smiled at him, glad to see the troubled lines on his forehead smoothen in response.

* * *

The setting sun scattered its light through the stained glass window, the coloured specks like butterflies on the wooden stage. In the middle, a glinting sphere of meshed everite hung from one of the rafters, ready to illuminate the stage later this evening. One of Dagna’s prettiest creations.

Humming under her breath, Rhiann arranged the food and drinks kindly provided by the kitchen on a table to the side. On the judges’ table in the centre, she put three mugs and a plate with various treats. 

Soon, the benches bent with the weight of all who had come to watch and the judges took their position. After rehearsing her introduction lines one last time, she nodded to Dagna and the sphere above the stage started glowing. Dimly at first, but becoming brighter with each heartbeat until it clearly showed the stains on Rhiann’s shirt from the wine she’d spilt earlier. Maybe she should’ve changed into something nicer, like that dress that— Before she could finish the thought, a shawl in bright red and blue was handed to her.

“Thanks, Cole,” she said in a low voice, wrapping the shawl loosely around her neck. The ends fluttered as she climbed the stage, encouraging her to add a little sway to her step. It wasn’t quite as elegant as a dress, but it would do fine. The murmurs quieted and with excitement buzzing in her stomach, she welcomed everyone.

“And now, please give some applause to our first candidate.” She waited for Maryden to start plucking the strings of her lute, the deep tones vibrating in the air together with the hum of anticipation. “He likes to embellish his stories, but tonight he'll be judged as he is. Will his chest hair grant him the victory? Please welcome Varric!”

She moved to the side and Varric emerged from behind the curtains. He had a wide grin on his face and gave a small bow to the people gathered. Light-brown hairs on his stomach matched the golden accents in his antaam-saar. The audience cheered and clapped, drowning out Maryden’s tune. His steps slowed when he reached the circle of bright light at the centre, his grin faltering for a second. He quickly did another bow with more flourish than before and exited the stage on the others side.

The judges made notes, some—Josie—more diligently than others.

Rhiann could barely keep herself from bouncing on her feet while she waited for the judges to finish. This was the most fun she’d had in a long while.

“Our next candidate hates long introductions, so I’ll keep it short. Most fierce, most feared, but will she also be crowned most fashionable?” She turned around to see Cassandra square her shoulders. “Here’s Cassandra!”

Rhiann covered her mouth to keep from showing her amusement at the pointed look Cassandra gave Varric, who was watching from the other side. He didn’t seem to notice, though: after his initial surprise at seeing the Seeker actually going on the stage, he clapped for her as enthusiastically as the audience did. Cheers sounded as Cassandra walked to the centre of the stage with long strides. Once there, she stopped and scowled at the room. Dead silence ensued, even Maryden missing a note. Giving a slight nod, she continued to the other side, drawing the gaze of everyone in the room with her.

Krem was the first to fill the silence, his cheer soon followed by the other Chargers, but Cassandra didn’t seem to hear any of it. Or... Was that a nod? A satisfied nod, perhaps? The movement had been too small to be sure.

Sera in her brightly coloured antaam-saar was next, followed by Iron Bull and a clearly uncomfortable Blackwall, though he grinned at the applause he received. Solas entered the stage with a resigned expression. Did he regret his choice? Rhiann wondered. He didn’t complain, however, and to be honest, he didn’t look bad in the outfit. His measured steps, elegant like a dancer’s, took him across the stage.

When the time came to announce the final two candidates, the room was bubbling with anticipation. 

“Being fashionable is—”

“Rhiann,” Dorian hissed from his place backstage. “What are you doing?”

“Excuse me.” Rhiann ducked behind the curtains. “There’s been a change of plans, you’re up next.”

“That is simply impossible. What prompted this change of plans?”

Rhiann’s eyes flickered to Vivienne, who was sitting with her legs crossed, arms draped over the armrests of a sofa. Just how had Vivienne gotten a chair, no, a _sofa_ over here?

“I should have known you would steal the best spot.” Dorian scowled at Vivienne.

“Please dear, I hardly stole anything. I merely let the Inquisitor know my preference.”

Rhiann bit her lip. “I didn’t know you wanted to go last so badly, Dorian. Vivienne came to me moments after you left and there was no time to run the change past you.”

“Everyone knows the final candidate is the one who will be remembered.” Dorian looked at her like a betrayed puppy, which was totally unfair. He knew she couldn’t play favourites. And she hadn’t known going last was this important.

“Well, I guess the only solution—”

“Shush, dear. I will go first.”

Rhiann’s eyes widened at the chivalrous gesture. “Thank you, Vivienne, that’s very kind of you.” She gave Dorian an admonishing frown, to which he replied with a huff. Shaking her head at his childish behaviour, she made her way back to the stage.

“Sorry about that, we can continue now. Next is the most elegant lady of the Inquisition. She plays the Game like no other, so surely this contest must be a piece of frilly, Orlesian cake.”

Vivienne walked, no strode, no glided over the stage before Rhiann could finish introducing her. So far for being chivalrous. The robes on Vivienne’s hips swayed with each step and. Rhiann gritted her teeth. Had she changed the fit?! The pants were tighter than they should’ve been, making the whole outfit look more elegant.

Too focused on trying to recount if she had said anything about alterations being allowed, Dorian’s nudge made Rhiann jump. Vivienne had already left the stage.

“Oh, right.” She cleared her throat. “Being fashionable is one thing, but our next and final candidate is not one to follow fashion. Instead, he’s bold enough to break rules and set new trends. Here’s Dorian!”

With his head held high and his moustache even neater than usual, he strode over the stage. Where Vivienne had oozed elegance, Dorian had an air of confidence that was unrivalled. He didn’t wear the outfit, he was part of the outfit. The ropes accentuated the lines of his shoulders and upper arms, the space left open between the torso coverings and the low pants showing the ridges of his stomach. As a mage, he had no right to look like that, like he trained with Cullen’s recruits every day.

This time, she didn’t quiet the crowd, but let them cheer while the judges went to one of the smaller rooms nearby to discuss the winner. 

With wine and beer flowing and plates of treats being passed around, the room was soon filled with chatter and last-minute betting on who would win. Leaning against the wall, Rhiann sipped her drink, the last strains of tension flowing away with each sip. She’d done her part and it had been a success. All there was left for her was to relax and wait for the judges to give their opinion.

“Standing quietly all by yourself? What happened? I didn’t think my show would leave you that speechless, you’ve known me for quite some time now, after all.” Dorian joined her, deep red wine swirling in his glass.

She tilted her head, trying to swirl her wine as elegantly as Dorian and nearly spilling it in the process. Bad idea. “Aren’t you being a bit over-confident? I was actually disappointed you didn’t make a bigger show out of it.”

“Like I need any cheap tricks, they only distract from the most important part.”

“And by that, you mean yourself, right?” Rhiann chuckled.

“Of course. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He crossed the room to where Iron Bull was standing, surrounded by his crew. 

“Confident, calm, but only on the outside. Evading that pang of guilt.” Rhiann half-listened to Cole’s words, her attention on the door that opened to let the judges in. In the silence that followed, Cole’s voice was no more than a whisper. “‘You do want to make a good impression and who is better at giving advice than her best friend?’” Rhiann narrowed her eyes and turned to Cole. “‘I know the finest shoemakers in Minrathous and wouldn’t it be much quicker if I pointed them out than having your spies search for them?’”

“Oh, Maker,” she muttered, placing her glass back on one of the tables. Josie climbed the steps to the stage, followed by Leliana and Cullen. There was no way to stop this in a delicate manner. And if she did stop it, what then? No, better to let this take its course, she decided with a glare at Dorian.

“On behalf of the three of us, I would like to thank the participants for giving us a wonderful show and thank Rhiann for organising this,” Josie started. She waited for the applause to cease before continuing, “While all of you looked absolutely marvellous, there can, of course, be only one winner. The three of us agree that the honour of being ‘Best Antaam-Saar Wearer’,”—was that really the best they could come up with?—“will go to…” No one dared draw a breath. “Vivienne!”

“ _Vivienne_?” Rhiann said, her voice drowned out by cheers and curses both.

As Vivienne came forward, the hint of a smile on her face, Dorian gasped, “No! That is not. Not possible.”

“And why would that be?” Vivienne’s voice carried through the room with ease.

All eyes turned to Dorian, all eyes except for Rhiann’s. She was staring at Leliana and Cullen. The first had an unreadable expression on her face, but the latter was scratching his neck, looking at the wooden floorboards. 

After a moment of silence, Dorian seemed to realise there was no going back. “They would vote for me. What did you promise them? Wait, no, that’s not your style. How did you threaten them?” He turned to eye the judges warily.

Shock crossed Josie’s face, but she wouldn’t be the best ambassador in Thedas if she didn’t regain her balance quickly. “What are you implying?”

Vivienne answered in his place, “He’s implying I lowered myself to, what did he call it, ‘cheap tricks’ to win this contest. However, I’m not the one who needs those.”

“This is unheard of, I can assure you I did not accept bribes in any way,” Josephine said, looking at the other two to back her up. Her face fell when neither did. “Oh, I see.”

“I knew it. You must have given them some reason to vote for you.” 

“Stop it,” Rhiann called out. She’d swear she was the only adult in the Inquisition at times. She made her way onto the stage, where Josie took a step back. “There’s been foul play, so I declare this competition to be void.” 

Neither Vivienne nor Dorian looked pleased at hearing this. 

“As this is all meaningless, you might as well tell us how you bribed the judges,” Dorian said.

Vivienne raised an impeccable eyebrow. “I didn’t bribe anyone, I merely gave them a choice.”

“All right, that’s it. Dorian promised to help me find a gift,” Cullen turned to look at Rhiann, “for your birthday. Enchanter Vivienne suggested that you would be disappointed if you found out that your competition was rigged.”

Rhiann turned to Leliana. “What about you?”

“First of all, there was no bribery involved, I considered my options and picked the one that suited me best. I must also say that Vivienne looked lovely in that armour and my decision was not based on dishonesty. However, Vivienne made me see that these little secrets will always find a way out. I wanted to avoid being accused of such things.” Leliana paused, looking at Rhiann. “I do apologise, Inquisitor. Rhiann.”

“As do I,” Cullen said.

A heavy silence filled the room that had been buzzing with cheerfulness before. 

Josie was the first to speak. “Considering these unfortunate events, I suggest the vote for who wins this competition falls to you, Rhiann.”

Her shoulders tightened with a tension that was never completely gone. Not since the moment she’d fallen from the sky with that stupid mark on her hand. Couldn’t someone else make a decision for once? She had intended for this to be a fun gathering, where everyone could relax and forget about the serious stuff that filled their days. A sigh escaped her at seeing the subdued faces all around. The majority had wanted it to be fun as well, it wasn’t their fault things had turned out the way they did. The choice was hers: walk away and leave them feeling like this, or step forward and try to give this entire evening a happy ending. It wasn’t a choice, really.

She plastered a smile onto her face. “I agree. Now, would all contestants please line up so I can make my decision?” It wasn’t necessary, she’d known who she would choose before Josie had suggested this. In the time it took for the candidates to line up, Maryden started a new tune.

When everyone was ready, Rhiann said in her most Inquisitor-like voice, “I, as Inquisitor, declare that the one who wore the antaam-saar best was,” she took a deep breath, “Cassandra.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened and her mouth made a silent ‘O’ for the beat of a heart. “Why?”

“It’s simple, really. You were the only one who looked like you were going to kill someone and the antaam-saar is meant as armour, after all.” 

Varric chuckled. “Who’s going to believe this? The fearsome Seeker, winning a fashion show. Suspension of disbelief only goes so far.”

“Just be quiet.” A smile tugging at the corners of her lips belied Cassandra’s words. 

“Congratulations, Cassandra.” Rhiann raised the glass handed to her. “To our favourite Seeker!”

The evening flew by in a blur of laughter and smiles. Surrounded by the ones she held most dear, a warm glow spread through Rhiann’s body, tension flowing away as she chatted and laughed. If only this evening could go on forever.

Arms wrapped around her waist. “You organised a wonderful evening, love.”

“Hmm.” She leaned back against Cullen’s chest. “You do realise you’ll have to be a participant next time since you’ve proven incapable of being a fair judge?” When he didn’t respond, she was quick to reassure him, “I’m sure you’ll look marvellous in an antaam-saar.”

He wanted to groan, she could tell from the tension in his chest, but then his breath was hot in her neck when he whispered, “Speaking of which, didn’t you make a promise?”

She turned her head to whisper back, “And didn’t you fear for my safety, with all those ropes?”

“Which is why I will be accompanying you to your quarters.”

His hand was warm on her hip, his arm comforting around her, and, after a last glance at the smiling faces, she let him guide her to her room. She didn’t feel the cold air as they walked the battlements, only Cullen’s presence beside her. 

No evening could last forever, but this one would last just a little longer.


End file.
